


Purpose

by MentalMeles



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Feliciano Vargas - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Ludwig Beilschmidt - Freeform, M/M, World War 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MentalMeles/pseuds/MentalMeles
Summary: Germany has only questioned himself once or twice before, and even then they were only small questions. But now, World War 2 rages within him and he soon finds himself questioning the world around him and even himself.
Relationships: Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Germany had never been one to question himself. In the past, he had only done it once or twice and even then they were only small questions.

But now, World War 2 raged within him. He could feel the weight of it resting upon his shoulders, making them stiff and heavy. He felt the pain and great loss of life deep inside his heart, causing it to ache. To put how he felt into more simple words, it were to say he felt tired, but it was more than that. The heaviness that plagued his body made him feel like he wasn't even slightly human. It made him feel more like an old machine or even some sort of weapon, pointed at the enemy in an attempt to achieve glory for his people. At this point, he wasn't truly living; he was just merely existing.

Despite how he felt, however, Germany had to continue to fight until his boss, Adolf Hitler, won, surrendered, or died. And that meant he also had to keep looking after another nation; a nation he promised to protect. That nation was Italy. Italy, unlike most nations, shared two personifications: Romano and Veneziano. While Romano, the southern half, remained in Italy to watch over the land, Veneziano, the northern half, fought alongside the German and the other members of the Axis Powers.

Veneziano was a strange boy to say the least. Instead of focusing on the war at hand, he sang songs, flirted with women, and day dreamed of a world unknown to even Germany himself. Not to mention, he also wasn't the brightest around and was a terrible soldier. He got scared easily and was never up to fighting, only wanting to retreat while waving a lone white flag in surrender. He couldn't even shoot a gun right without flinching. It was a mystery how he was even able to invade the land he had taken over before he joined the Axis. So, it was up to Germany to turn him into a soldier more fit for war, but it was on this day that he asked himself, 'why.'

Why did he have to train this boy who he had randomly stumbled upon in a forest during World War 1? This boy that went by the name of a piece of land and that of a mortal both at once? This boy who, despite living countless lifetimes, couldn't even shoot a gun right? This boy that wouldn't die, no matter what torture was brought upon him? This boy that probably didn't even exist?

That last thought alone was enough to make Germany question himself and everything he knew. Who was he? What was he? Was he a man or was he an illusion, a trick fabricated by God? Had he done something bad in a past life, if he possessed any? What could anyone have done that would cause a punishment such as this? Or was he just born this way? Was he even born? He didn't have any parents to speak of, only his older brother and grandfather that had died long ago. What did it mean to be a nation?

No. He already knew that answer. He knew all too well what it meant to be a nation. As he questioned himself, millions of people were being slaughtered in concentration camps all across Europe and his boss was the one to blame. The German had never approved of the idea and God knew that if he could, he would've refused to go through with it. But, as a nation, he had to do what his boss told him, no matter how cruel or unjust. If Hitler told him to isolate himself, he'd isolate himself. If Hitler told him to surrender, he'd surrender. If Hitler told him to kill, he'd kill. And Hitler had told him to kill. So he did.

It made him sick.

Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot followed by a whimper broke through his thoughts. The German flinched and turned to see Veneziano, cowering from his own gun. He then turned his head over to the target the Italian was supposed to shoot for practice. He hadn't even come close to hitting it. Germany let out an irritated sigh and walked towards him. "You missed again."

Veneziano frowned before looking up into the German's sky blue eyes. "I know."

"Try again, alright?"

Veneziano nodded and raised his gun. For a second or two, Germany swore that the Italian was holding a perfect posture. But then he began to shake. Small tremors went through Veneziano's body and his lips began to quiver. He was pouring all of his attention on the gun in his hands rather than the target in front of him. After a moment of silence, he finally shot the gun, eyes closed and gun pointed far away from the target. Just by observing this, Germany instantly knew what Veneziano was doing wrong.

"You're hesitating too much. Instead of focusing on the gun, focus on the target," he said before adding, "Besides, it's not like the gun is going to kill you."

"But it will kill someone else," Veneziano quietly muttered under his breath.

Germany froze. His frown deepened and he swallowed hard. He looked hard at the Italian that stood before him and he must have looked scary, because this caused him to shrink and look down at his shoes like a child receiving punishment. There was an uncomfortable and intense silence filling the air between them until Germany allowed himself to sigh and relax a bit. "Perhaps we could take a break."

At this, the Italian's body completely relaxed, though there was some confusion in his eyes as he stared at Germany. Germany ignored this, however, and walked up the small incline that almost separated the field where they practiced and the trail that led back into the city. He then carefully sat on the grass as to not mess up his uniform and stared up into the sky. Veneziano watched him quizzically before approaching him. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to him. Again, there was a silence between them, but this was different than before. It was more calm and only the sound of the gentle breeze could be heard as it blew around them.

Veneziano was the one that finally broke the silence. "Wow, I sure am hungry. Hey, Germany? Do you think we can go have some pasta after this? I know we're running a little low on supplies right now, but I think we can make it work somehow, don't you? Besides, making food with you would be better than training. Or would it? Hey, Germany, which do you prefer? Food or training?"

Germany closed his eyes. "What's the point?" The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Veneziano blinked, so taken aback by the words that he spoke his native language. " _ Che cosa? _ "

Germany faltered, instantly wishing he could take back those words. "Food is fine." He said quickly with a steady enough voice, hoping Veneziano wouldn't question him further.

"You said it was pointless." Veneziano said.

"I didn't say that."

"Fine. You asked what the point was."

Germany groaned a bit, slightly irritated by the boy's persistence. "Well, we technically don't need food to live since we're nations, Italy. It's pointless for us to make any."

Veneziano grew silent for a second or two before slowly nodding. "I guess that's true." Germany gave a quiet sigh of relief, glad that he could recover from his mistake. That is until Veneziano said, "But what about training?" Germany then frowned and looked away, unable to save himself a second time. Now the fellow nation was concerned. "Germany? Are you okay?"

"I am fine, Italy," he insisted.

But Veneziano was determined. "Germany," he pressed.

Suddenly Germany groaned. "Ugh, what's it going to take to shut you up!?" He said, raising his voice to a shout.

The Italian froze. Neither of them moved. Neither of them dared to make a sound. It seemed to last forever until Germany finally tore his eyes away from Veneziano's, running his hand over his slicked back hair and to the back of his neck. After a moment or two, he stole a glance at Veneziano, who was now looking away. "Look, Italy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, so please don't cry, alright?" He said, suddenly embarrassed of his careless outburst. "I'm just tired is all."

Veneziano's gentle gaze was now directed back to him. His soft orange eyes that reminded the German of the sunset were now full of worry and confusion. His lips, which usually wore a smile, were formed into a frown. His light brown hair -save for one curl that refused to stay down- fell around his small face carefully, almost concealing his bandaged cheek. Germany's frown deepened at the sight of it and he found himself looking away. Did he really have a wound on his face or was that just a trick too? After silently cursing under his breath, Germany stood. "Forget it; we're done with training today."

But, just before he could even set foot on the trail, Veneziano grabbed the sleeve of his jacket tightly. Germany stopped and looked down at him. "Um, what are you doing, Italy?"

"Germany," the boy said suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Please tell me what's wrong."

Germany closed his eyes. "I already told you. I-"

"Don't lie. It's bad to lie, Germany."

"We'll talk about it later."

"But-"

"We'll take about it later," Germany repeated, this time a bit more harsh, but the Italian was having none of it.

"You always say that, but we never do. You always brush me away. And whenever you ask what's wrong when I'm sad, I answer. Why won't you let me do the same for you?"

Germany restrained a second growl. "You would not understand. Now can we please just drop it?"

"Germany, please? I could try to understand. Honest, I could," he begged. "I know I'm not smart or strong like you, but I can try to understand. I want to understand. I want to help." He looked back up to Germany with those eyes like fire again, pleading. It ached to see those eyes, knowing that they might not even be there, knowing that they, along with Veneziano, could be nothing more than a beautiful and horrible lie.

Germany was still and silent. He then looked up to the clear blue sky, silent still. Veneziano waited.

"Do you ever wonder, _Italien_?" He asked finally. "Do you ever wonder why we're born, or made, like this? Like humans, but anything but that?" Veneziano furrowed his brow and his frown deepened, but he was silent. Germany went on. "I haven't thought of it much myself until recently. I mean, I have had thoughts about it once in awhile, but something always held me back. Now I just can't stop thinking about it." He paused. "Do you think there was a reason? Do you think it was out of faith or punishment? Or do you think it was all just by chance? And why do you think we're okay with it? Why do we all just accept these lives?"

"Germany..." Veneziano had heard enough.

But Germany continued, unable to stop now. "Doesn't it ever make you mad, _Italien_? Haven't you ever wished for a normal life? One where you could do whatever you wanted to do and go wherever you wanted to go? Haven't you ever wanted to get married, have a family, grow old, and die with your loved ones? Haven't you ever wished for that?"

"Germany."

"Don't you see that our lives are not our own? That we're just living, breathing weapons for our bosses? Who else can we be, Feliciano? What else can we be?"

" _Deutschland!_ " Veneziano grabbed his hands suddenly and firmly. "No more."

"But-"

"No, stop," Veneziano said, gripping his large hands even tighter. "It doesn't matter." Germany almost spoke again, but Veneziano continued before he could. "It doesn't matter because we're here together."

Germany grew silent, but underneath his silence he was still angry, confused, hurt, and sad all at once and Veneziano was well aware of it.

"Germany, if we were born humans like you say, do you think we would have ever met? Do you think you would have ever known all the ones you know now and have all the relationships you've made over these years?" Germany didn't answer and Veneziano waited a bit before continuing, his voice not sounding like his own when he spoke. "I've seen many, many people die. People I've cared about and loved. But despite that still, I always find a reason to keep on living this life. Of course, I know I don't have much of a choice, but I still don't see any reason to question it. I'm here, and that's all that matters, not some other life I could have lived. Because I think -no, I know- that if I were to just keep on thinking that way, well, I'd go mad!"

Germany watched as Veneziano broke out into a small laugh before speaking again. "Besides, you're very important, Germany. A lot of people depend on you. Like your brother and Japan. My brother also depends on you in a way, though he won't admit it. Your people depend on you too." A pause. "And, even if all that wasn't true somehow, I'll depend on you."

Germany inhaled quickly and sharply, a frown still on his lips as Veneziano held his hands. It still pained him, those possible answers to those horrible questions and even though he found himself comforted by Veneziano's words, he still wanted something to prove it to him. Something to prove to him that Feliciano Vargas, Italy Veneziano, and everything else he knew was real and real enough to keep living for.

Suddenly, without thinking, he grabbed Veneziano and pulled him into his strong and warm embrace. It was so sudden, the Italian almost fell completely into the German's large moving chest. Veneziano, however, did not protest. He did not struggle, he did not yell and instead welcomed the unfamiliar gesture coming from Germany. He was warm and his heartbeat was strong, even though it was going a bit too fast. His arms were wrapped around him a bit too tightly and he was shaking, something wet falling onto Veneziano's hair every now and then. Veneziano debated whether he dared to look up at Germany's face or not until Germany's voice broke through his thoughts. " _Danke._ "

Veneziano smiled and laughed again for his answer; Germany was really strange sometimes. Silence befell them once more before Germany spoke again. "Hey, Italy?"

"Yes?"

"Let's not speak of this again, alright?"

Veneziano then smiled a bit wider, now allowing himself to pull away from Germany's arms. He did not look to his face and instead turned and walked up the small incline and then to the trail. Still looking away, Veneziano said, "Don't worry, Germany; I won't tell anyone you were crying!"

Germany, his cheeks now a slightly darker shade of red, shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean-" But then he stopped. Something in the Italian's voice and bittersweet smile told him he already knew what he meant and was agreeing by not even bringing it up now. Again, he said, " _Danke._ "

Veneziano simply nodded before stretching his arms up and above his head. He then yawned a bit and finally turned to face Ludwig with those beautiful sunset orange eyes of his that were most certainly real to him now.

"Hey, _Capitano_?" He said. "Can we have pasta now?


End file.
